Perseverance
by Ragnar-Pendon
Summary: Meet Meshido, the most unlucky kid in all of Prontera. Battered, bruised, abused, and well, half crazy, will he be able to take the task of becoming a Priest? please review


Hello everyone! I'm back!

To those who already read my stuff: sorry guys, but I'm afraid I had to mothball Transgressions of Fate for a while because I was feeling kinda disconnected towards my characters. It's taking quiet a toll on my brain trying to think like them. Not to mention the fact that it was the kind of story where the characters of other stories were supposed to meet each other. (OK, so I was experimented on my first fic . . . hey, can you blame a noob for being such a noob?)

Anyway, I decided, if this website might actually hang around for that long, I might be able to continue with a patched version of ToF after I've written the stories for the main **characters** – namely, the more popular ones (note the 's' in "characters", they're just that many . . . sorry guys ).

So, as the old saying goes, "que sera-sera" (I think that's how it's spelled . . . anyway . . .) .

So, without further ado . . . I bring you, Meshido's story.

Enjoy, you guys.

RAGNAROK ONLINE FANFIC

Perseverance 

By: RAGNAR (that really is my name)

Chapter 1: Meshido 

"Hey you fucking air head! Get over here, Errand Boy!"

As always, he winced, not at the derogative given him, not even at the insults hurled at him, but more on the swearing. He never could get used to that kind of language around him . . . spending a lot of his time in the Sanctuary and all.

His name is Meshido Albar, resident of the slums in Prontera's southeastern wall – the Sea Wall, as people call it, although the sea is a couple of miles more in the same direction. His job wasn't exactly . . . mainstream. He just runs errands for people who have little time to do them. Hence, the name "Errand Boy of Gem Street".

Gem Street, as the name hinted, was one of the richest areas in Prontera. Well, it wasn't rich, but the people who live there should be; by the way they treat other people.

It was his eleventh birthday, and he was greeted with the same thing he was greeted with every other day of his miserable life. And he was hauling water for two blocks – two big city blocks – early in the morning only to be ordered around for the rest of the day.

Meshido dumped the water into the inn's water trough for the patrons' pecopecos before cleaning his shoes on the rug outside the door.

"Errand Boy, are you deaf! Or just plain stupid! Get over here NOW!"

He just spared a glance at the café across the street to get a glimpse of the owner glowering at him with that drooping face of his. Meshido then opened the inn's door a little to poke his head in to nod at the innkeeper saying that his job is done. The innkeeper grunted his approval because Meshido finished the job quiet quickly and flipped him a silver two-hundred zenny coin.

Big tip, Meshido smiled at that when he caught the coin in mid-air. He liked the innkeeper. He wasn't exactly one of the best people in the world, but he was at least kind enough to put Meshido's birthday into consideration – that, and because the man was one of the few who didn't call him Errand Boy, among other things, not to mention he didn't curse.

"Thanks, Master Casius!" he said before slipping out the door.

He pocketed the two-hundred and hurried down to the café. When he got inside, the fat owner backhanded him for greetings. Actually . . . most of the stuff under the man's skin isn't fat but pure muscle. Meshido endured it. He needed the money.

"You had to keep me waiting, you puny punk?" Master Meloy's spittle flew out in threads towards the slow forming bruise on the right side of Meshido's face.

"I had to finish the job at the inn, Master Meloy." Meshido replied. That slap forced tears out of right eye and made his face twitch a bit, giving him the image of sniffling. In a way, he was grateful it did, Meloy had a . . . weakness . . . for teary-eyed little children, sparing him from any further physical abuse – he hoped. In a way, he was terrified by what might be going on in Meloy's sick brain.

Meloy suddenly grabbed Meshido's shirt and shook him hard. "YOU THINK I CARE, YOU SNOT-FACED IMBECILE? WHEN I CALL, YOU'D BETTER GET YOUR SCRAWNY ASS IN _MY _CAFÉ!"

The café owner threw him down on the floor. Meshido's shoulder hit the hardwood flooring – he feared that it might have broken, judging from the pain. The man then threw in a mop that – Meshido only wished it were accidental – hit him on the head followed by a bucket. "Clean the floor" he said.

Great, he had to go haul water for another two blocks. When will the local authorities think of digging a new well? Meshido started for the door with the pail until Meloy whacked him on the shoulder with the mop.

The force of the blow knocked Meshido to his knees. But before his hand could even reach the floor to break the fall, Meloy then slammed the mop handle to his side. Meshido fell on his face in hacking gasps. Meshido tried to get up with the pail but Meloy's boot landed on his back and pushed him down on the floor. The man then kicked him to the side, the boot painfully scraping Meshido's skin beneath his clothes.

The battering ended, Meshido gasped in pain but still tried to get up.

_I need the money that's why I have to put up with this. EVERYDAY if I have to!_

He flogged himself with that thought over and over. He needed the money. Every zenny counts.

Meshido heard Meloy mutter behind him "Worthless half-Morroc scum! I never understood why I hired one of your kind in the first place. You're as useless as that piss-faced brother of yours," and as if an afterthought, he then added, "I've tasted better wenches than your mother from that pig-sty of a tavern down at the slums!"

Meshido knew that Meloy hated Morroc with a passion. He was one of the fanatic Knights during the four-year Morroc-Prontera war that happened about a decade ago.

Meshido had to remind himself not to hurl the bucket on Meloy's pudgy face. He reminded himself that he stayed under the man's employ because he was the one that hands out the biggest payments, tip or no tip. But it was an effort trying to keep his grip relaxed on the handle.

God help him, it was hard not to even grit his teeth.

A bar of soap hit him at the back of his head. Meloy apparently still saw him crouching there. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, YOU SHIT! GET TO WORK!"

It was a long and lonely walk back to the café from the well. His muscles ached from the abuse Meloy took out on him.

It's a hard life. But at least he had one. Although . . . he was starting to question if it was even worth living.

He walked carefully so as not to spill the water he was hauling. The now busy street now brought out a carriage or two, people going about the day's business, but the most noteworthy event was the ten-man platoon of Knights riding their pecopecos in a two-by-five line led by an eleventh Knight in officer's colors. Meshido didn't see the Knights' faces shadowed by their helmets or covered by visors, but he felt a collective sense of urgency and frustration about them as they rode by.

Knowing that it was obviously none of his business, he just walked on by with the bucket.

He reached the end of the first block when suddenly, he heard a sharp cry. It was a girl crying out in pain followed by raucous laughter.

It was faint, but luckily there was a very short moment when the noises in the city gave way for him to know that the sounds came from the alley he was passing by to his right.

Meshido carefully propped the bucket besides a corner and proceeded deeper into the alley.

He hugged the walls as he stalked into the dark alley. Meshido could hear men laughing at the distance. He could also hear a girl whimpering – from fear, most likely.

"Come on kid, give us the goods," said a deep voice.

From the laughter, Meshido judged that there might be three men in there.

It was a "dead-end alley", as the people here refer to it, the kind that goes in deep but ends up in a dead end. Meshido crouched and stole a peek around the next corner.

"Hey, there's no need to fight, lass, we just want to play with you," taunted another voice.

"Yeah, girl, you could even try our special candy." The comment was followed by raucous laughter.

There was a girl cornered by four men with knives. The knives were poorly made, with their shine only coming from the oil polish the men vainly coated the blades. The men were all regular sized except maybe for the big one squatting right in front of the girl with his pants down doing lewd motions with his hips.

The girl had blond hair done in ringlets in the end. Her tearful blue eyes stared at the men with fear. She must be around his age.

From what's left of her clothing, she was maybe daughter to a rich person. Torn pieces of blue cloth led all the way from where Meshido hid to where the girl cowered in the corner. She must have been toyed with until she retreated into a dead end.

The way they tormented her dredged up memories from the darkest corners of Mehido's mind. The terror . . . the pain . . . it all came crashing down on him.

Anger flared up within Meshido as his hand pulled off two loose bricks from the wall.

Those men have no right to do this.

Even if he won't make it, he would at least have done something right.

"_It's alright to do the right thing, Meshido, just be prepared to pay the price."_

His brother's words.

And Meshido was prepared to pay the price.

_Now or never, Meshido! Your chance to do something worth doing!_

"LEAVE HER ALONE!"

With those words, he sent a brick flying.

The brick shattered on the big man's head. Blood spurted out of his shattered skull as he came falling down on the floor. By the way the man twitched, Meshido almost hoped that he was still alive.

Almost.

Shock first registered on the three remaining men followed by rage when they found out that it was only a young boy that took down their friend.

Meshido readied himself, back straight, left foot forward with knee bent, right foot back with legs straight and his weight shifted slightly to the front. His left hand rose to cover his face while his right hand – the one holding the brick – guarded his chest.

"_Killing is not a sin, Meshido, murder is. There is a difference between the two. The first is a necessity, the latter is a crime."_

That belief was the reason all Monks were banished from Prontera. That belief was the reason why his brother was so loathed. Fear of the truth in that belief has only caused his family pain.

If he was going to kill, it will not be to murder these men. It was to save this girl he does not know.

He is Meshido Albar, eleven years old.

He was hated for his blood.

He was shunned for his beliefs.

He was beaten all his life.

His fists were hardened from hardships.

His spirit has strengthened from animosity.

Live or die,today,he will be the vessel of the Lord's Punishment.


End file.
